The Blood Between Us (13 page)

Grace was first to respond. “You already know I’ll be there. I told you yesterday.”

Julian looked at me. “Adrien?”

“Yeah. Sure. Why not? It’s not like I have other plans.” I hadn’t even finished my answer when Grace exited the room. Try as I might not to, I let my eyes follow her, wondering what life would have been like if Grace had been more open to having me in her family from the beginning. I’d never know for sure.

“Julian?” I met his eyes and hesitated before asking the question that was burning in my mind. “Do you ever get the feeling that Grace has her own agenda going on?”

Julian tilted his head at me curiously. “Don’t we all?”

I bit the inside of my cheek, debating the possibility. “I suppose.”

“Dinner’s at eight o’clock Saturday. I’ll send a cab. You won’t have to share with Grace. She’s getting a ride with a friend.”

I nodded in response. I should have been more excited to see Viktor. Even if it meant having to get dressed up for a fancy dinner party, I was here, back at Wills, to spend as much time with Viktor as I could. But honestly, I couldn’t give a crap. With a whole house full of guests to compete with there, I’d rather be doing just about anything else.

A smile settled on Julian’s lips then. He knew how I felt about dressing up and impressing strangers. “Saturday. Eight o’clock. Wear a tie.”

I didn’t speak my response so much as sigh it. “See you then.”

The difference between the mass of the nucleus of an atom and the mass of its constituent molecules

The art barn had started out as a carriage house over a hundred years ago. The wood was all original, as were the large barn doors, but back in the 1920s the building had been converted to an art studio. All of the art classes at Wills—from painting to pottery to metalworking—were taught in or near this building. Inside on the walls hung proud examples of former students’ work. Dangling from the ceiling were strings and strings of vintage Edison lights that emitted a soft, warm glow. “Action Cat” by Gerard Way greeted me as I entered the building. Someone had obviously hooked up an iPod to the barn’s sound system. Only about a dozen or so people were
there—and I was already getting tired of watching Josh stare longingly at the sliding barn door for any sign of my sister, despite the fact that I’d been in the building for only about five seconds or so. I sighed, reaching into the cooler for a can of Mountain Dew. “Well, this looks like a bust.”

“It’ll get better.” Josh’s tone was a mixture of nerves and determination. I was about to ask him where exactly he was hiding his crystal ball, but he interrupted my snark. “I asked your sister to meet me here.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. “Listen. Josh. Maybe this party was a bad idea. I think I’ll just head back to the dorms.”

The large door on the left slid open and Grace entered the barn. The moment she spotted Josh, she walked over. With a glance at me, she said to Josh, “And here I thought your taste in friends had improved.”

Not exactly under my breath, I said, “And that’s when the evening went completely to hell.”

She tried to ignore me, but I could tell that my words had seeped through her stony exterior. Then her expression moved from annoyed with me to enamored with Josh in about two heartbeats. It was nauseating. “I can only stay for a few minutes. I got your note.”

He said to her, “Can we talk? Somewhere private? It’s important.”

“Of course.” She grabbed his hand and they began to walk away. Leaving me alone. At a party that I hadn’t even wanted to attend.

“Josh?” He looked back at me, and I grabbed him by the arm, pulling him close and lowering my voice. “What are you doing?”

He shook his head, as if he wasn’t really sure. “Just talking. Why?”

“I thought you broke up with her. What’s there to talk about?”

“We did break up. Just . . . give me a minute, okay? I’ll be right back.” The look in his eyes had liar written all over it. He wasn’t coming back and we both knew it.

As Grace tugged him across the room, I called after him, “And what exactly am I supposed to do until you get back?”

“Mingle?” It wasn’t a suggestion so much as an off-chance possibility. Whatever Josh had to talk to Grace about, it had better be important. I wouldn’t have come here if I’d known I was going to get ditched five seconds into my arrival.

“Mingle.” The word dried up on my tongue, turning to ash. I rolled my eyes so far back in my head that I thought they might get stuck that way. Mingling wasn’t exactly my strong suit. “Great.”

I hopped up on a counter that doubled as a workspace and surveyed the crowd, sipping my soda and wishing I’d
just stayed in my room. The crowd was still small, and I didn’t really recognize any of the partygoers. But as I scanned the room, one set of eyes met mine. Casually, I continued my survey, but finally brought my attention back to her.

She was a pretty girl. No. That wasn’t the right word at all. She was stunning. Flawless. Almost unreal. Like a walking fiction. Model hot. Tan and tall. Eyes like melted chocolate and hair to match. Her black dress clung to her thighs, her hips, her waist, her curves. I
definitely
didn’t recognize her as someone I knew from before. A curious smile touched her lips as she approached the counter where I sat, as if we had business to attend to that I was not yet aware of. “Hi there.”

“Well, hello.” Smooth, Dane. Real smooth. “And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

What was I? A butler or something? I was starting to sound like Viktor. Not that he was a butler or anything, but he did have this old-man formality about him sometimes. Not that he was old. Or that I was old.

I was having a hard time focusing on words. Her legs were just that flawless.

“Charity Bernhart.”

“Ahh. Of the Connecticut Bernharts.” I nodded, lifting the left side of my mouth in what I hoped was a charming smirk.

She cocked an eyebrow and smiled. “You know my family?”

Blinking, I stumbled over my words. This whole charming thing was just not working out for me this week. It had always gone over fine in California. “No. I . . . made it up . . . actually. I don’t know anyone here. Not really. Except Josh. But he’s . . .”

I looked around, but Josh and Grace were noticeably absent. My imagination forced an image of them making out against a tree or something. Gross. “. . . somewhere.”

“So you’re Grace’s brother, right?” Charity ran a well-manicured finger along my collar, tugging it slightly. “Adrien?”

Was it warm in here? It felt warm in here. “That I am. Not by blood, but still.”

“Word has it you’re quite the arrogant bastard.”

I raised a sharp eyebrow. Silently, I wondered both who’d been saying that about me . . . and how right they might be. Maybe I was arrogant. Maybe that was exactly my problem. But I thought it was more likely something Grace had said before even getting to know the person I’d become.

She licked her lips then and met my eyes. “Fortunately for you, I’m into arrogant bastards.”

“That’s . . . good, I suppose?” It came out as a question. Mostly because I thought it was kind of a stupid thing to say to someone, but didn’t want to insult her by saying so.
First off, my apparent arrogance all depended on who you asked, and we hadn’t really been talking long enough for her to make that determination one way or another. Second, I detested the word
bastard
. I’d had two fathers—one by birth, one by adoption—and now I had none. So what gave anyone the right to call me by such a vile name?

I was beginning to hate how attracted I was to her.

She ran her finger up my collar again, over my chin to my bottom lip. A chill went through me, but I couldn’t be certain if it was disgust or desire. “Wanna go for a walk?”

I swallowed hard and tried to keep my cool. “Where?”

Shrugging, she smiled. Not a happy smile or an act of pleasantry. But something deeper, darker—a smile of pure, animalistic intent. “Does it matter?”

I didn’t have time to ponder whether it did or didn’t, and frankly, I was beginning to care less about what my brain had to say about the matter. Before I could trip over any more words, she tugged me gently out the door. My collar in her hands, tugging me along in the dark. Me following her lead, letting myself be drawn into the unknown possibility of it all.

We walked away from the barn without talking. At one point, she let go of my shirt and laced her fingers with mine. At her insistence, we moved down the slope of a nearby hill, immersing ourselves in the night. The grass was covered in
dew, as was the tree trunk I leaned against when we stopped walking. She moved closer to me—so close that I could feel her hot breath on my neck. And when she spoke, tiny goose bumps raised on my skin. “Has anyone ever told you how hot you are, Adrien?”

I wasn’t sure she wanted an answer, or even what I’d say. But I didn’t have time to form a response. Before I could, she pressed her curves to me, tangling her fingers in my hair, slipping her tongue inside my mouth. It was fast. Too fast. Suddenly the same pull that had led me out the door and down the hill tugged me out of the wave of desire with a warning. Did I want this—whatever it was? What kind of girl just grabs someone she’s never met and takes them outside to screw around? Not that it was necessarily a bad thing, just a bold move that I wasn’t quite used to experiencing. As turned on as I was, a strange sort of terror filled me. I didn’t know if I wanted this. But more than that, I didn’t know if it was okay to not want this.

Almost out of instinct, I pushed her gently away and said, “Whoa. Slow down. I think I’d rather talk for a while, if you don’t mind.”

She blinked at me and took a slow step back, as if drowning in disbelief. The sight of her grappling with rejection made me feel sorry for her. She was pretty, and probably a very bright person to be at Wills in the first place, but all
her worth seemed tangled up in the physical affection she could offer. It made me wonder what her relationships with the men in her life were like. Did she have a bad relationship with her father? Her uncles? Her brothers? Were there no men in her life she could relate to? Was she seeking that connection by kissing strange guys in the dark? She raised an eyebrow at me in disbelief, as if I might be joking, as if no one had ever said no to her before. “Really?”

Even in the shadows, I could see that she was interpreting my offer to talk as a solid rejection. And this was not a girl used to being rejected. It occurred to me then that I didn’t even know her name. She’d said it, but in that moment, suddenly, I couldn’t recall it. Like a whisper on the wind—present, but easily forgotten. My chest tightened in panic. How could I not recall her name? I’d had it. It was just there. Catherine? Sharon?

I felt bad for my momentary lapse in memory. She deserved more than that. All girls did. All people did. “Yeah, really.”

“I heard that about you,” she said with an eye roll. There was a decided shift in her posture, her mood. Now I was an annoyance, no longer a prize. If I ever had been that.

“Heard what?” The noise from the party sounded so far away, despite the fact that the barn was merely yards up the hill from where we stood.

She started fixing her hair, even though it didn’t need fixing at all. Nervous fidgeting, maybe. Then she snorted, her beauty immediately marred by her shift in attitude. “That you’re asexual. Or gay. Or something. Gorgeous, but untouchable. Or maybe just afraid of losing your virginity?”

If there was one word that got my hackles up more than
bastard
, it was when people used
virgin
as an insult. As if we all hadn’t been virgins at one point in time. As if virginity were some sort of sideshow attraction—something to be stared at in abject horror and wonder. Something that had existed eons before, but was completely extinct in this day and age.

“Who said I was a virgin? And what would it matter if I were?” I swallowed hard, gasping for air in a moment where I felt the need to defend myself—despite my belief that defense shouldn’t be needed. “Not that I am.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

And that’s when I realized what this was. A total setup, likely by Grace. But what was the point? Did she really think being teased by some girl I’d just met would hurt me so terribly? Clearly my sister had a lot to learn about vengeance.

A cool breeze rustled the leaves above us. I’d forgotten how cold it could get here at night, and I still hadn’t received the rest of my clothes and stuff from California. One week in, but already it felt like my real life was becoming more
and more of a memory. I knew then that it was time to uncover what Grace had been up to with my father’s work, say my good-byes to Viktor, and get back to California. Wills wasn’t home. It was the shadow of a memory that belonged to someone else, and it would look a lot better in my rearview mirror.

She shook her head and sighed. “I knew it. I knew you were gay. Or some kind of asexual freak.”

I looked at her, tilting my head to the side in a question. “So. Wait. Because I won’t kiss you before getting to know you, I must only be attracted to the same gender or not interested in sex at all? Wow. Now who’s being arrogant?”

She stared at me, mouth agape. I could only shrug.

The line of her mouth thinned with an air of cruelty. “So which is it? Are you queer or a prude?”

My jaw tightened. “My personal life, my orientation, the choices I make, and the genetics I’m predisposed to are none of your damn business. And I think this conversation has reached its conclusion.”

“Fine by me.” She moved back up the hill and I followed her with my eyes. As she reached the top, she called out, “He’s all yours, boys.”

At first, I had no idea what she was talking about or who she was talking to. But then three shapes stepped out from behind the surrounding trees, and I knew that I was
in trouble. I recognized two of them—Carter Danvers and Taylor Watson, both athletes and constant occupants of the same lunch table where Grace had sat every day this week. I couldn’t make out the third guy in the dark. But I knew trouble when I saw it. And he was definitely trouble.

I made a break for it, but Carter grabbed me by the arm and swung me back down the hill. Taylor grabbed my other arm, and their grips tightened. To my credit, I didn’t cry out or plead for help—at first. But I couldn’t hold my tongue as the third guy came down the hill—a guy I now thought I recognized as Ben Winchester from chemistry class. Try as I did to keep calm, my voice shook when I spoke. “Come on, guys. I already told her I don’t feel like making out tonight. That includes with you.”

The first punch hit my nose and I thought my head was going to explode. Tears rolled from my eyes. My entire face grew hot, and my nose throbbed in pain. If that hit had been the last of it, I would have happily agreed not to mess with Charity again.

Charity. That was her name. The punch in the face had apparently jogged my memory.

But as the hits kept coming, setting my jaw, my eye socket, my cheek alight with pain, I felt surer than ever that this little encounter wasn’t about the girl at all. It was a setup. By Grace. Hell, maybe by Josh. Maybe both. Somebody had
wanted to get me here all along and beat the crap out of me. Charity had just been the bait.

Could Josh really have been part of this? He had seemed anxious to see Grace tonight, and hurried off with her the moment she appeared. Had he been helping her? Was he merely another pawn in whatever game she had been orchestrating against me in my absence? He had insisted that I come tonight, after all. The hypothesis had a lot of evidence to support it.